


His Butler, Appellation

by ThatMysteryWriter



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Headcanon, M/M, POV Sebastian, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-07-18 20:06:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7328746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatMysteryWriter/pseuds/ThatMysteryWriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The butler makes an intriguing discovery about his young master. (Part of my head canon ^^)</p><p>  <em>“To think you bestowed upon me a name so…intimate.”</em></p><p>  <em>“What perversity are you spewing?” Despite his frosty accents, the earl shivered as though my lilting tones had traced a finger down his spine.</em></p><p>  <em>“I daresay I am only giving voice to something the young master refuses to admit."</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	His Butler, Appellation

    His Butler, Appellation 

* * *

  
     Another mundane morning commenced at the Phantomhive manor. As usual, I performed the perfunctory tasks required of me before venturing to the young master's bedchambers. I strolled the trolley cart to his quarters and raised a hand to rap on the door when a soft murmur sounded inside. I felt my brows crease. Oh dear. Another night terror? With a sigh, I tugged my gloves on tighter and pushed the door.

     The entrance gave way, and I followed in its creaky wake, noiseless and sleek as a shadow. I took in the sight of my young master sprawled in his four poster, his pale limbs tangled in the bed linens, his hair mussed. Despite his disarrayed state, he seemed unperturbed. I frowned. Had his nightmare subsided without my assistance this time?

     I wheeled the trolley cart to his nightstand, at more leisure pace now, and peered down at his face. His smiling face.

     My eyes widened a fraction. Did my eyes deceive me? No, of course not, I dismissed. The mere thought of my young master smiling without an inkling of artifice was utterly absurd. Surely, a trick of the morning light—

     A soft giggle escaped his parted lips.  

     I blinked. Had I not seen it with my own eyes, I would not have dared to believe it. The young master was indeed smiling . . .  _and giggling._ For the first time in years, I was at a loss how to proceed. I merely stood there, not knowing if I should feel more amused or disturbed at this balderdash. Whatever could incite such a reaction in him? 

     Curiosity aroused, I leaned against his four poster. Face nestled in the luxuriant sheets, he looked like a spoilt mewling kitten. Quite a pity that the young master loathed such lovely, unpredictable creatures—for I found him to be the paragon of one. And yet once again, his unpredictability was getting the best of me.

     I bent even closer to the young master till his breath ghosted my face. My shadow swept over his diminutive form. I observed the even rise and fall of his chest, his long, thick lashes fanning out, his angelic visage that housed a devious little imp inside. Perhaps, he was jesting me. Granted, two more days still remained till April fools, but when did the young master ever play by the rules?

     Despite myself, I thrummed with anticipation to hear that foreign sound spill forth from his lips once more. A mellifluous sound I found equal parts delightful and horrendous. Slowly, the young master lifted his arms. To my surprise, he embraced his favorite pillow. Then his lips pursed once more, but this time, no giggle ensued. Instead . . .

     "Seb...astian." 

     My name? The boy was calling for me? _If only I could penetrate his slumbering mind_. But even with all the power within our contract, it was all I could do but watch on as he repeated my name like litany. 

     Then he paused. A fit of giggles erupted from his lips, and with both arms, he squeezed his pillow -hard, hugging it against his chest like a child to a stuffed bear. This appalling sight had gone on quite long enough.

     I clapped my hand. “Young master, it time to wake up.”  

     “Mm…sebas…” Ciel’s lashes fluttered open to see my form hovering over him. He met my steady, impassive gaze, and a flush colored his pale, creamy flesh. His fingers tightened around the pillow he still clutched. At my notice of it, a horrified expression came over him. He flung the pillow to the floor, giving me a look that demanded, _don’t you dare ask._

     He sat erect, wiping the remnants of blissful sleep from his eyes, and made his voice tart. “The carte de jour for today?”

     I gestured to the cart. “Currant teacakes, eggs Florentine, spotted dick with custard, and Earl Grey tea, my lord.”

     He gave a noncommittal nod and selected the sweet pudding off the cart. As he breakfasted, I retrieved the pillow off the floor and set it on the bed—rather close to him. Ciel eyed me with a cat-like inscrutability. “What are you doing?”

     “I am simply returning the young master’s favorite pillow. You are rather fond of it, are you not?” He clicked his tongue and jerked away as if replaying what happened moments ago. I smirked. I could not resist egging him on. “You seemed like you slept unusually well today, young master.”

     “Well enough,” he murmured. He took a sip of his tea, averting my gaze. I discerned a nervous swallow. My lips twitched. So he would not discuss it. Of course, I expected nothing else from my young master. No matter. I had other ways of getting it out of him…

     When the young master finished his breakfast, I informed him his schedule and away the rest of the day went. Violin lessons, a lecture by Professor Hughes on kingcraft, Latin, tea with Lady Elizabeth. All throughout, I caught a trace of wistfulness in his demeanor: at Elizabeth's lively minuet, he simply sipped his tea and stared into cup in contemplative silence. During lessons, he gazed outside the window with a far off look as Madam Geiger rebuked his poor playing form. It almost appeared as though he'd succumb to a bout of nostalgia, though I made no mention of his queer behavior. When he found himself free at last, he informed me he had some paperwork to fill and not to be disturbed for the next hour. 

     Of course, I knew he had no paperwork for today. I raised a brow as I watched him scuttle of to his study and shut the door. Curious . . .

     Making a farce out of the Devil's Food Cake I prepared for this evening, I plated the chocolate dessert and took it to the young master's study. Careful not to betray my presence, I stood outside, the plate in my gloved hand, and listened closely. Neither the shuffling of papers nor the scritch-scratch of pen to paper sounded inside. Only silence.

     Mildly concerned, I rapped the door and pushed it open gently. "Young master, are you alrigh—"

     "Sebastian!" The earl swore under his breath and slammed something in his desk drawer shut. "Don't barge in like that!"

     "My apologies, sir." My gaze drifted to the desk. _Whatever was he hiding?_ "I merely came to offer you some dessert. You are fond of this sweet, are you not?" I brandished the decadent Devil's Food Cake with velvety ribbons of dark chocolate artfully arranged.  I could see the hunger in his eyes, but instead, he glanced up, eyes narrowing with suspicion.

      "What are you playing at?"

      "Nothing at all. Is it so wrong to indulge my young master's sweet tooth on occasion?" I whispered. When he fell silent, I reached for the dessert. "I can always take it back if you do not wish to-"

     "I'll have it," he said quietly. 

     "Very good, sir. Perhaps you'd prefer to eat it at the courtyard? Heavens knows, some fresh air might do you well. You've appeared to be in a rather melancholy disposition today, my lord."

     "I am not." Ciel eyed me with tetchiness and lifted his chin. Without another glance at me, he flitted out of the study—the chocolate dessert in hand. I chuckled. I had not expected him to play into my hands that easily. I turned my attention to his desk. The third bottom drawer, was it?   
  
     Slowly, I pulled the gilded handles and the drawer drew open. I lifted a brow.  _An album?_

     I carefully opened it. Photographs of the young master as a child graced the pages. Him playing with Lady Elizabeth and another boy obscured in the background, him laughing with the former earl and lady on a summer picnic. Then, I caught a small stub of paper sticking from the album, serving as a makeshift bookmark. I flipped to the page and stilled. So here was the reason for his peculiar demeanor.

     I inspected the dozen or so photographs, each featuring the same subjects. The young master and . . . ah yes, _that_ dog. Pictures of the young master hugging the dog in his arms, pictures of the beastly creature licking his cherub cheeks as his lips parted into a silent giggle, and even a picture of the child slumbering, with the dog protectively covering his small frame, keeping his nightmares at bay. I let my gloved finger trace the edging of the sentimental picture, finally understanding the young master's dream this morning, but also . . . something more.

     Till now, I had accepted the appellation the young master had given me without question—albeit a touch snidely for he had named me after the mangy dog. Still, I had never griped much about such trifles. Afterall, over the eons I had donned various appellations given by previous contractors. My name had always been something like an overcoat. It became worn. I outgrew it. I changed it. And then the process repeated. Such things like names held little significance to someone of my nature for, unlike humans, these temporary appellations could never define me.

    Despite this, a strange realization snaked it's way through my being. Could it be the young master, so cold and indifferent, had seen fit to bestow upon me a name that held such sentiment to him? Did he truly think I'd care for him in the similar fashion as that creature did? If he did, he was even more foolhardy than I thought.

     And yet . . . why did that very notion sound appealing?

    _"Y-you."_

     Ciel emerged from behind and grasped the album out of my hands. His voice went sharp as glass. "I knew you were blasted up to something. What's the meaning of scavenging through my personal artifacts, Sebastian?"

    "I merely wished to know why the young master was acting so peculiarly today."

    "That's none of your business," he said icily.

     "It's not, is it?" I slowly took a step towards him. "Then, perhaps you'd care to elaborate why you call my name in your dreams, young master."

     Ciel gritted his teeth and balled up his shaking fists. "I wasn't calling _you._ "

     "Quite so," I gazed at the album he held tightly to his chest. “I suppose now I understand why you are so fond of those foul creatures, young master.” I stalked closer to him. He retreated a step back, only to find himself pressed against the wall. “I can only imagine . . . it licked your tears away when you fell, soothed you in your melancholy, stayed by your side when you succumbed to your asthma episodes and that beastly creature even shared your bed at night . . .” My voice dropped to a silken whisper that trickled against his face. “To think you bestowed upon me a name so . . .  _intimate_.”

     “What perversity are you spewing?” he whispered. Despite his frosty accents, the earl shivered as though my lilting tones had traced a finger down his spine.

      “I daresay I am only giving voice to something the young master refuses to admit.”

     “Tch. Don’t misunderstand me, demon.” Ciel’s lips went taut as bowstrings. I watched in relish as the cogs in his mind raced, as if trying to salvage control over the situation. All of a sudden, he paused. His lips slowly curled.

     “You think that appellation I bestowed you is intimate?” A derisive laugh escaped him. “Sebastian was a nuisance of a dog . . . constantly following me around like a shadow, chasing around pesky cats . . . always keeping me up at night.” He caught my eye and held it. “Sebastian was merely my dog…just as you are merely my servant. There is nothing more.”

 _What a little liar you are, young master._ Is that so? In that case, please forgive my bold assumption, sir.”

     Once more, he played the game well. His foolish pride made him a formidable player, one who'd never surrender that easily. Of course, I never expected him to nor did I wish him to. Afterall, that was what made our game all the more interesting.

       The young master turned his shoulder curtly. "Now, if you're quite finished with this poppycock, I should like some tea." His voice dipped. " _Sebastian . . ._ " Ciel lingered over the syllables of my name and locked eyes with mine. A shadow of smile touched his lips.

       I bowed to him fully, concealing a satisfying smile of my own. "Yes, my lord." 

        Never before had an appellation sounded so pleasing. The appellation of Sebastian.

       The appellation of _me._

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading along ^^ I've had writer's block working on my other Kuroshitsuji fanfic so I needed to write this -been meaning to do for a while anyway. Anywhoos, I have my first podfic up for my Book of Cipher fanfic posted! ^^


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